


Heaven Is

by lentezon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Blind Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lentezon/pseuds/lentezon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange, because Dean is never nervous. Then again, Dean also doesn't eat croissants, let alone bake them, or take him out to fancy restaurants instead of bars serving greasy food. So Castiel is more than a little confused.</p><p>Or: In which it's Castiel's birthday, and Dean breaks a habit or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Is

**Author's Note:**

> This is just tooth-rotting fluff with some of my first attempt at porn thrown in. Also, this is a blind!Cas fic written by someone who has no experience with blindness whatsoever, so it might not be entirely accurate. Sorry for that.

Castiel has no idea what his flatmate looks like, but he thinks Dean is beautiful anyway.

Dean tells him his other senses are supposed to be heightened, so he should know better.

They’ve had this discussion countless times. Both of them know Dean is good-looking—Cas hasn’t missed the amount of people Dean’s been on dates with. Apparently Dean has pretty green eyes and blond hair and, to quote a girl he’d overheard in the corridors one day, “a great ass”.

Cas doesn’t know about that, although he’d like to find out.

Truth is, he’s had a crush on his flatmate and best friend for months. It’s in the way Dean never pitied him for being blind, but he still helps out in small ways anyway. It’s in the way Dean’s voice sounds when he talks about things he cares about, like when he’s being proud of his little brother. (Because apparently, Sam’s the only one who’s going to get somewhere in life. Cas has stopped trying to argue with that.) It’s because he can tell Dean has a lot to offer, even though all he does is go on dates, sleep with them, and never go out with them again.

“I made you breakfast,” Dean’s voice sounds from Castiel’s bedroom door.

It’s because of that, too.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s your birthday. I’m not letting you get away with that miserable cereal shit you call breakfast on your birthday.”

Dean is also very fond of everything greasy. Never let it be said that he’s not.

Cas smiles. “Okay. Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Happy birthday, man.”

“So,” Cas says, moving to sit upright in his bed. “Do I get this breakfast served in bed, or should I move all the way to the table?”

Dean snorts. “You’re a lazy asshole, you know that? Stay there.” There’s sounds of him walking away, some clattering from the general direction of the kitchen, and Dean’s footsteps returning. “I, uhm… I might have been a little enthusiastic with the food.”

Cas grins. “What’s on the plate?” he asks when Dean pushes the tray into his hands unceremoniously. He can figure it out himself, he’s not an idiot. He just likes the idea of making Dean squirm.

“Croissants,” Dean says, sounding like he isn’t entirely sure about that decision. “Umm. Salmon and lettuce sandwiches. Bread rolls.” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure if I should make pancakes, too—” But he hadn’t, Cas would’ve smelled it. He’s happy for it, though. Castiel isn’t a morning person, and that extends to his breakfast. He doesn’t like any of what Dean calls ‘real breakfast’. Dean knows this—it's why there isn’t any bacon included.

“That sounds like an awful lot of food for one person,” Cas muses, his fingers skimming what feels like a croissant and grabbing it. “Also, I noticed you used the plural for everything.” He smirks. “Would you like a _croissant_ , Dean?”

He may not be able to see it, but he knows Dean is scowling, because he is the kind of person who claims never to eat anything that doesn’t sound American. (He also claims pizza counts as American, though, unless there’s vegetables on it.)

Deciding it’s taking too long, he takes a bit off it himself, realizing that these were freshly baked. “Not only did you decide on French food over American food, but you baked it yourself, too?” But he knows what Dean is like when it comes to doing things like this, so he immediately adds, “They’re really good, Dean. You should have one  yourself.”

He’s surprised when, for once, Dean doesn’t argue.

They eat in silence, on Castiel’s bed, and he’s sure it’s gonna leave tons of crumbs but he can’t really get himself to care. This is nice. He doesn’t often get to sit with Dean like this—Dean has a full timetable and two side jobs, and Cas’s schedule isn’t that generous with free time either. Plus, Dean likes to go to bars when he has an evening off, and Cas… Cas isn’t really fond of crowded places without being able to see said crowd.

So he enjoys simple things like this.

In fact, he enjoys any time spent together with Dean, because Dean is honestly the most beautiful human being he’s ever met—although that might be his massive crush talking.

“So,” Dean says after a while. “You’ve… You got any plans for today?” He sounds strangely unlike himself. Cas would almost say his friend is nervous, except Dean doesn’t do nervous.

“I bought a new audio book that I thought I’d start,” Cas says slowly.

“Uh,” Dean says intelligently. “Okay.”

If Cas had thought his friend was acting strange before, this seals it. Last time he was listening to an audio book, Dean had unceremoniously turned it off so Cas could help him with homework. “Dean. Spit it out.”

“D’you wanna go-out-for-dinner?”

Cas frowns at him. “Burgers?” he asks, because that’s their tradition, and he doesn’t understand why Dean is making such a big deal of it.

The other man takes a deep breath. “I was thinking… Italian, maybe.” It’s a question, not a statement. Cas nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats.

Cas tries not to think of reasons why he sounds so relieved.

 

Dean drives them to a restaurant in town, in what Cas knows to be a long black car he calls his ‘baby’. He also knows this car apparently adds to Dean’s sex appeal, which he doesn’t understand, because it’s a _car_. People shouldn’t want to sleep with someone because they have a nice car, in Castiel’s opinion.

He’s never said that out loud, because Dean is fiercely protective of his car.

He hears a woman ask for their names, and Dean answer he’s made reservations under the name Winchester, at which she leads them to their table.

“This is the fanciest place I’ve ever been,” Dean says when they’re sat and the waitress is off getting their drinks. “They’ve got all dark red carpet and golden details and all this wood.”

His tone of voice makes Castiel smile. Dean isn’t easy to impress, mainly because he cares more for greasy food at places he can eat with his hands without people judging him for it.

“So whadd’ya wanna eat, Cas? Pasta? Pizza? Something else?”

“I trust your judgement, Dean.”

They both get a salad first, because it’s that kind of restaurant. Dean describes it as a colourful mash of rabbit food, but eats it anyway. It’s a good salad.

In fact, it’s a good night overall. The food is as good as Dean’s description of the restaurant (when he’d decided to properly give Cas an idea of it, that is) suggested, and though Cas knows his friend still prefers the same old American bars to eat, it’s obvious that he enjoys it here, too.

Sometimes he thinks it’s kind of sad how Dean could take him anywhere and he’d enjoy himself as long as Dean does, as well.

It’s a good night, although Cas doesn’t need a fancy restaurant to make him happy. It's obvious in the way he keeps smiling on the way back, and he thinks Dean notices. He hopes he does.

The car stops and he hears Dean getting out and opening the door on his side, too. He's not sure he wants to get out yet, 'cause that'd mark the end of the evening, but he has to, so he follows his friend into their apartment.

“Thank you, Dean. I enjoyed myself tonight.” It’s a slight understatement of how happy he really felt.

“Good.” Dean coughs. “’cause, you know.” And there it is again, that nervousness. It’s starting to make Cas worried. He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he? “’Cause,” Dean says again, “I’d like to do it more often.”

“I would enjoy that.”

“Yeah, no, I mean.” He can actually hear the breath Dean takes to gather his courage. “As a date.”

He thinks he must have heard that wrong. “What?”

“I wanna take you out on an official date.” His voice falters a little at the end.

Cas smirks. “Was this a date, Dean?” That’s when it hits him. “All these things—you baking croissants, and eating salad at fancy restaurants that you usually hate… were you trying to _woo_ me?”

“I…”

He sounds a little lost. Cas feels a little sorry for him. Underneath his amusement, however, he needs to know, because Dean’s dates usually only last the evening, and he doesn’t think he could deal with that. “Dean. Is this your way of telling me you want to date me for more than one night?”

“Well, if it’s amusing to you—”

“I’m not laughing at you. I need to know this, Dean.” It’s his time to open up, now, and he’s a little scared to do it, but Dean has done it and now it’s his turn. “I have wanted to date you for a long time. I don’t want it to be a one-time occurence.”

He doesn’t get a vocal answer. Instead, he gets Dean’s lips on his own—surprisingly soft and full and better than he could’ve ever imagined. “Yeah,” Dean says, “me too.”

“But all your dates…”

“You’re way out of my league, man,” Dean says. It doesn’t seem like an answer to Castiel’s question, except it is.

“You are infuriating,” he tells his friend. “You deserve good things, Dean. I wish you would stop thinking otherwise.”

“Shut up.”

Dean kisses him again, harder this time, lips parted and tongue asking entrance to Castiel’s mouth. He grants it happily.

Kissing Dean is glorious. There are no sparks, there’s no explosion in Cas’s insides, there’s just him and Dean and their lips touching and their tongues exploring, and it’s better than he could have ever imagined.

He can’t help it if his hands slowly move to Dean’s back and down to his ass, really.

The other man huffs and breaks the kiss, laughing softly. “You like that, Cas?”

“I heard someone mention you having a ‘great ass’ once,” he answers seriously. “I thought I should find out.”

He can hear Dean’s smirk when he says, “and?”

“She was right.”

Dean laughs out loud at that.

They take it to Cas’ bed after that, because there is more of Dean he wants to discover, and he’s waited long enough. He lets his fingers roam under Dean’s shirt, finds that the man is mainly muscle but with a bit of a tummy, too. He can feel Dean squirm under his attentions, but he doesn’t say anything, so Cas doesn’t stop.

He finally pulls up Dean’s shirt over his head, with a little help, to get better access to the man’s nipples. He takes his time, one hand on Dean’s biceps, the other softly stroking one of his nipples.

“Shit, Cas.” Dean surges downward to kiss Castiel again, his hips rocking up a little although Cas knows he’s trying to hold himself in. He can feel Dean’s hard length through the fabric of both of their jeans.

He lets his hands slide lower, until he feels the buckle of Dean’s belt. It takes some fumbling for him to open it, then pop open the button of the man’s jeans, but the sound Dean makes when he does it makes it worth it.

Deans tugging at his shirt, which is stuck under Cas’ armpits, whining his name. Cas turns them over, pinning Dean to the bed with his legs as he takes the shirt off in one quick movement. “Dean.” His voice sounds lower than usual, and Dean whines again and lets his hips buck up.

“No,” Cas tells him. He wants to touch and taste all of Dean, first. He has been holding out on this for long enough now, he won’t let it be over too quickly because Dean can’t keep his hormones in check. No matter how much he wants to hear and feel Dean come apart, he wants this more.

“Bossy,” Dean says. “I like that.”

Cas files this information away for later.

This new position makes it easier for him to explore Dean’s body with both his hands and mouth, letting him trail kisses from his collarbone down to his navel, while his hands work on getting the jeans off as far as he can without taking his mouth off Dean. His fingers trail the elastic of Dean’s boxers, slowly, before he tugs those down as well.

“ _Cas_.”

He almost falls off the bed as he moves down Dean’s body, touching his calves, his knees, his thighs. Dean’s legs are shaking. It makes Cas smile as he presses a kiss close to where his hand is resting on the inside of Dean’s thigh.

“C’mon, _please_.”

He can’t deny that he’s been wondering what Dean’s cock is like, or that he’s having a hard time restraining himself. He moves back up a little until his fingers find Dean’s heat, slowly moves them there. They touch Dean’s balls first, at which the man lets out a low hiss that turns into a loud gasp as Cas fondles them a little. He doesn’t let his hand linger there too long, however, because his stamina only goes so far.

Dean’s cock is thick and hot, with precome already dripping down from the tip. He imagines it flushed dark under his hand and smiles a little as he moves his fingers over the head and then in one easy stroke down to the base.

“Jesus fucking—urgh,” Dean lets out.

Cas smirks as he searches out Dean’s lips again, only getting it right at the first try because one of Dean’s hands has tangled itself in his hair.

It’s a very strange feeling, his hand moving on a hard cock that isn’t his own. By the sounds Dean is making in his mouth, he’s guessing what he’s doing is right, though. His hips are bucking up into Cas’ hand and his grip is almost painful, but Cas doesn’t mind. It takes his mind off the painful strain in his own jeans.

“Cas, I—fuck, _fuck, Cas_ —”

And just like that, his hand is coated in warm and sticky, and Dean’s muscles are relaxing. It’s a more satisfying feeling than Cas had imagined it would be, knowing another’s body so intimately.

“We are not done,” Dean growls as he tries to move. He doesn’t get the chance to reply before Dean captures his mouth again, lips now swollen, and easily opens his jeans.

It’s a relief to say the least.

“Dean, I—”

“Ssh,” Dean says as he forces Cas back down onto the bed. “Let it happen, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Dean doesn’t take his time with him the way Cas had, and he’s glad for it. He doesn’t think he could possibly hold out much longer.

Instead, Dean gives him one more lingering kiss before a wet heat is enveloping Cas’ own hard cock, and he almost chokes on air because he hadn’t been expecting _that_.

“ _Oh_.”

Dean hums around him at that, before gripping the base of Cas’ cock and starting to move his head. Cas is gripping the sheets in his fists, trying not to come within the first five seconds, but Dean is working him like a pro and he was close as it was from having Dean come apart beneath him. It only takes one more swirl of Dean’s tongue before he can’t hold it any longer. “Dean,” he warns, a second too late.

Dean’s placing a chaste kiss on his lips seconds later. “Shit, Cas,” he says, breathlessly. “I think I love you.”

It’s such a strange moment for the declaration to Cas, it takes him a moment to process the words. When he does, though, the fill him with something he’s sure he’s never felt before. “Likewise.”

Dean laughs again. “Good to know.”

He wants to touch Dean’s face, explore the one thing he didn’t let himself earlier because it didn’t feel like the time, but he’s painfully aware of his come-stained fingers. “We should clean up,” he states.

“Yeah.”

“I want to know what you look like.”

He thinks it may sound a little too pitiful, as if he’s angry at something for not being able to see, but he isn’t and Dean understands. “Okay.”

 

Dean tells him, as Cas’ fingers touch every detail of his face, that his eyes are green (Cas already knew this) and that he has freckles that he hates a lot. Cas feels the perfect bow of Dean’s lips and the symmetry of his face and tells him again that he’s beautiful. Dean doesn’t reply.

“Dean,” Cas says sternly, gripping both sides of Dean’s face and forcing him to look at him. “You are an assbutt, and you will believe me when I say I would not love you if you weren’t the good man you won’t believe you are. I appreciate your physique, but I have been in love with you since far before I knew of this. Good things do happen to those who deserve it. You deserve good things, Dean.”

“Okay,” Dean says, sounding like it’s hard for him to force the word out.

“Good.” Cas lets go of his face and relaxes, then, perfectly content to fall asleep just like this.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You—You’re… beautiful too, you know.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah.”

Cas doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to wipe the smile off his face again.

He can't wait for their next date.


End file.
